WRiTE CLUB 2015 - Bout #9

What
is WRiTE CLUB?It started off as a modest writing
competition, inspiration loosely derived from the movie FIGHT CLUB, and it has since grown into a writing community
sensation that is now sponsored by the DFWWriters Conference.There are
numerous versions of this concept floating around the internet, but nothing
like we do it here.Its essence embodies simple, good-natured
competition, with lots and lots of fun sprinkled on top.

Over
the course of ten weeks I’ll be holding daily bouts (M-F) between Anonymous
500 word writing samples, submitted under a pen name.The writing can be any genre, any style
(even poetry) with the word count being the only restriction. Today is Bout #9.Read each sample carefully and then leave a
vote in the comment section for the one that resonates with you the most.Anyone can vote... but only once per bout. Don’t forget to leave with a brief critique
of both submissions as well.

Voting
for each bout will remain open for one week. The winner of each will be posted
HERE, at the WRiTE CLUB
scoreboard.Are you ready?

Here
are the first two randomly selected WRiTER's.

Standing
in this corner, representing the fantasy genre and weighing in at 495 words,
please welcome to the ring……..Möbius

There
was only water, and then, a small raft.

Essa
hadn’t
realized that the Edge of the World would be so calm. Like the pause of
heartbeat and lung at the end of an exhalation, there was that same kind of
dead-air, of waiting, of uncertainty whether another breath could be drawn.

Far
different from journey along the rocky coastline, the capricious currents, and
the storms that shook and spun until her bearings were more tangled than a
rogue fishing line dredged-up from the reef.

The
water was still other than the ripple from her paddle and the bow of what had
once been a boat, before the waves, before the dark, before the wind that
scooped her like a gull scoops an oyster and dashes it to splinters.

This
was an uneasy quiet.

For
only gods and monsters lived at the end of the world, and Essa had come to beg
and barter. To sacrifice, if necessary, if that was the price asked. Out here,
or in the Wilds, there was no guarantee who would answer first: one who could
be persuaded to help, or one who would devour with the swift ruthlessness of a
winter gale.

She
lay the paddle down and drew a whale-bone knife from her pack. The trick was
where to cut, where it would bleed deep enough to summon, yet where it could
easily be bound. Hands were definitely out. It would be impossible to make the
long trek back.

If
there
was a long trek back.

Choosing
where to cut, that was a small, manageable decision. Thinking about what would
happen after...

Essa
lurched back, the paddle knocked wide with a splash. It was the reflection of
her own eyes that had spooked her. Too wide, too scared, too young-looking for
a warrior, for the one chosen and blessed by her village.

Blood
thrummed in her ears, pulled and pushed by the gravitational force of her fear.
She shut her eyes and drew a breath.

This
too was small. This too was manageable.

It
was important to master what was in her reach, because so much was not. Not the
ocean, not the sky, not the run of fish spawning in the rivers, and certainly
not the gods and monsters at the end of the world.

Retrieving
the paddle, yes, that was within her means. The seal-intestine towline was
strong, supple, and still tied tightly to her ankle. Essa pulled it in, hand
over hand, the paddle slicing a low wake until she fished it to safety.

She
crept forward and stared past her reflection, past the surface, past what she
could see and control, into the far-off deep. Each challenge, each step had
been building to this moment. She was strong. She was brave. She was loved. Her
blood would call a god, not a monster.

Hell, I'd take a slice
of existential crisis with a regretful hangover crust instead of registering
with the government. Imagine if the first time you saw yourself might be the
last time you took a breath. The safer option was never to leave the gorgon
homeland, the Isle of Stone, in the first place. Never try to live among humans
and the fallen Greek gods and make a life for yourself.

But I was never one to
play it safe.

Immortal friends and
student loans would be my financial death. My Brooklyn death, on the other
hand, now loomed ahead, blurring in the distance like a dark and murky
nightmare.

The Center of Sorrow and
Sisterhood or CSS was a bleak gray building with a lone black door at the
front. It was both a savior and destroyer for young gorgons like me. On our
thirtieth birthday, we either exited the front or shuffled out the back like a
failed experiment. I shifted the protective goggles on my face to ease the bite
of the frosty late autumn air.

No gorgons escaped this
date with destiny.

Thirty was the age we
discovered if we're cursed to turn living things into stone, cursed to live on
the dreadfully drab and far away Isle of Stone. I refused to return to a place
with dial-up Internet.

I was due to make an
appearance at the center earlier in the day but instead spent my last possible
hours soaking up as much of Brooklyn as possible. The air smelled differently
here and I didn't want to forget it. If I were forced to leave, I'd miss the
smell of freshly made bagels the most. Last night I dreamed I rode a bagel out
to sea and drowned. That couldn't be good.

My older cousin Leto
waved as I neared the doomed building. She had a few years on me and the
sorrow, aka the gorgon curse, skipped her. Would I be so lucky?

She grabbed my hand.
"You better hurry. They shut the doors in twenty minutes and there's
already a line. C'mon."

I followed behind her as
I always did in everything. She not only had age but height and financial
security over me. I'd barely chipped away at my undergrad and grad student
debt. My M.A. in immortal rehabilitation had come in handy on my job when
dealing with immortals, Zeus especially.

Enjoying
two talented writers at work is only part of the price of admission, now it’s
up to you to decide who moves forward to the playoffs.In the comments below leave your vote for the
winner.Which one tickled your
fancy?After you vote please tell all of
your friends to stop by and make a selection as well (but no coaching about who to vote for).Yes, it’s subjective, but so is the entire
publishing world.It’s as much about the
readers as it is about the writers.

These were both good for me. I'm voting for Mobius though. The way he or she wrote was poetic and professional to me. As a short story, I think it was great. I don't know that I would want to read a full length novel though.

Gram was good too. It might be because I just woke up and rushed in to read, but I had to read the first paragraph twice or three times to get it. It is a good concept though. I felt like too much was shoved into this tiny intro of a bigger story. I would read this as a novel, for sure. Urban fantasy is the perfect description of this one.

I agree with Lisa Dunn. Both pieces were excellent. Gram Cracker was funny, but some of the sentence structure was wordy enough to make me have to read twice. Mobius drew me in, except for the multiple similes at the beginning of the piece--those distracted.

My vote goes to Mobius today, because it's the story I would rather read, but I thought both pieces were well done! Mobius has very poetic, literary language, but I would just watch out for the long sentences (read them out loud if you haven't already) and tighten up the beginning, as I really wanted to get right into the action and know what Essa had journeyed all the way there for. That would increase the hook more, if we knew the stakes/motivation.

This is a really tough decision. I thought the imagery was great in both entries, and imagery is certainly one of the things that draws me in...Grrr....Hard to decide!

Mobius--I really like the idea and the imagery (like I said above). I like it that she has to cut herself and fears doing so. I think that's a great setup. As a writing teacher, however, there were two things that bothered me. First, in the beginning of the entry, there were a few places lacking articles (the words "the," "a," and "an"). Second, while it's fine to use sentence fragments in creative writing, it's not okay for a writer to mistake a sentence fragment for a complete sentence. The third paragraph is a fragment that appears to be masquerading as a sentence. Possibly, you are well aware of that fact; I don't know for sure.

Gram Cracker--I really enjoyed your entry. I especially love your imagery, specifically this sentence: "Last night I dreamed I rode a bagel out to sea and drowned." I thought that was a clever way to fuse NY culture with mythology. I was a bit confused when you said, "Imagine if the first time you saw yourself might be the last time you took a breath." Is this a Medusa thing--if a gorgon sees its own reflection, it's turned to stone? If you haven't explained that previously in your work, you should. Or you can explain it in the above selection. Either way, nice writing and fun topic!

Möbius gets my vote - while I didn't like the "pause of heartbeat and lung" at the top, the rest of the entry was sparse and moody in the best of ways. I felt there was a natural flow and momentum to the story that seemed lacking in Gram Cracker's entry.

Voting for Gram Cracker but both were quality writing.For GC, I would like to have seen this be the second paragraph: "Thirty was the age we discovered if we're cursed to turn living things into stone, cursed to live on the dreadfully drab and far away Isle of Stone. I refused to return to a place with dial-up Internet." It just seemed to follow the dread of turning more naturally in this place than later in the piece.

Lots of great atmosphere and texture in Moibus, but it could be that I have become numb to stories where some young person learns that she's the "chosen one" and sets out on a treacherous journey to do what is asked of her.

Wow! This was a super tough choice! I think the writing is excellent in both pieces, and both have strong-voiced characters running the scene - love that! However, I'm going to go with Moibus because I felt the stakes were super high and the character had the possibility of learning a lot, or having a choice over the outcome of her story. I felt like Gram Cracker's story had a character swept away by circumstances out of her control - she's fighting it, but I wasn't sure that she was going to make the next choice or if someone else was going to make it for her. Both stories seriously interested me, but again, I'm going with Moibus.

I'm going to have to go with Mobius. The writing was just excellent, full of wonderful descriptive phrases. I really enjoyed the entire piece. The only thing I wish I got a little more of was the reason she was there, trying to call a god or a monster, but that probably gets revealed shortly.

Gram Cracker's piece was very well written as well, but there were a few confusing bits. The lapse into second person within the second paragraph was jarring. I really don't understand the line "Immortal friends and student loans would be my financial death." How are immortal friends and a financial death related? I didn't understand why the age of thirty, although I guess in any book with the "age where something life changing is determined" trope is used, it's arbitrary, but it seems like it's normally deployed in YA, not something I'm very familiar with in adult fiction. I guess that's why it seemed strange. Does anything important ever happen after age 16?? I guess with gorgons it does. :) But I really love the idea of the gods premise, and I loved the tone and voice of the piece.

Mobius, You have mastered the art of describing action realisticly, and I love the complexity in your work. Very deep and well written.

Gram Cracker, You made up a fantasy world and then went one step further and gave your fantasy character human issues, (what will your future be from 30). It is so easy to relate to this odd character. Very entertaining and fun to read.

Vote for Mobius. Got some clear grammar issues in a few lines, but stakes were clear.

Gram: couldn't really tell why I should care if your MC goes/stays because she didn't seem all that concerned either way. Didn't feel like there were any big stakes if dial-up-internet is one of the biggest worries.